


Nor will I allow you to balk me any more

by LiveOakWithMoss



Series: You Drove Me Wild [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cousin Incest, Finwian dramamonsters, Finwian politics, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1866666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Resisting temptation has never been as pleasurable as yielding to it.<br/>Porn, followed by the usual Finwian family drama.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nor will I allow you to balk me any more

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Нет, не позволю я вам удерживать меня](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6985990) by [rio_abajo_rio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rio_abajo_rio/pseuds/rio_abajo_rio)



“Maitimo, _please_.”

Maitimo pulled back, breathing hard as he looked down at his cousin. “We should –” 

Findekáno glared at him, braids in utter disarray, his hair wild across the sheets. “If you say ‘go slower,’ I will _bite_ you.” 

Maitimo couldn’t help but grin, forgetting to be cautious as he bent down to nuzzle into the crook of Findekáno’s neck. “Don’t tempt me. I quite like the sound of that.” 

Findekáno gave a growl of impatience and sank his teeth into the juncture of Maitimo’s shoulder and neck. The brilliant flash of pain combined with the pleasure of Findekáno’s mouth dragged a moan from Maitimo.

“Beast,” he whispered. “How you test me…” He ran a hand down Findekáno’s torso, reveling in the heat and the swell of muscle beneath the skin. 

“You’re one to talk,” Findekáno said, gasping as Maitimo wrapped a hand around his hip. “Do you have any idea what you do to me? Sitting there in Haru’s council meetings, all composed and perfect, and then you look at me with those damn eyes and I – ” he broke off as Maitimo covered his lips in another kiss. 

“And you what?” he murmured, a dark thrill of delight running through him as Findekáno writhed beneath him. 

“And you make me hard as rock,” said Findekáno, wrapping his hands into Maitimo’s hair. “I can barely sit still, damn you. And you’re completely unruffled, and can even speak fluently and everything, while I can’t because all my blood is in my cock – ” 

“Deviant,” Maitimo whispered, but Findekáno’s words just inflamed him further. He sucked a bruise onto Findekáno’s collarbone, and Findekáno groaned. 

“I may be a deviant, but you’re a filthy tease.”

“Tease? Don’t I always follow through, despite my better instincts?” 

“ _Tease_. Just when I think I have myself under control, you find me after one of those damn meetings and you get that look in your eye and you push me up against a wall and kiss me silly – ” 

“That doesn’t sound like teasing to me,” said Maitimo, distracted by the roll of Findekáno’s hips beneath him.

“- and _then_ you pull away and go all serious and say we should stop because someone might come up on us.”

“Well, they might.” 

Findekáno gave a groan of frustration. “It _ruins_ me for the rest of the day, you bastard.” 

“If it makes you feel any better,” said Maitimo, latching his mouth to Findekáno’s skin again, “it doesn’t leave me in much better shape.”

“Careful.” Findekáno squirmed beneath him. “You’ll leave a mark.”

Heat flooded Maitimo at this. Findekáno, marked by him. Findekáno, bearing the bruises of his love. “Didn’t you once tell me you wanted to leave something on me that came from you? Maybe I want everyone to know you’ve been claimed.” 

“Eru,” whispered Findekáno. “Just when I think I have you figured out…” He widened his legs and Maitimo sank between them, gasping as the movement brought them into alignment. The burst of pleasure wiped his mind blank for a second, but he dragged himself back to coherence. Those dark places his mind went while lost in pleasure frightened him sometimes. Control, that was the key. 

“No,” he said, pulling back. “No, you’re right. I should be more careful. I think Curvo suspects, already, and your sister is far too sharp for her own good.” 

Findekáno released Maitimo’s shoulders and flung himself back on the pillows, exasperation in every line of his body. “ _This_ is what I’m talking about. _Tease_.” 

Maitimo disentangled himself from Findekáno’s body and lay down beside him, not touching but close enough to feel the heat from his skin. He raked a hand through his damp hair, pulling it free from the last remnants of a braid. He closed his eyes, listening. Footsteps on the first floor; his mother, probably, washing up after working late in her studio. Faint strains of music from Makalaure’s room; silence from Curufinwë and Tyelkormo’s rooms; they were out on a hunt with Irissë. Carnistir could be anywhere.

“The twins are probably asleep,” he said out loud, and Findekáno rolled onto his side.

“And your father?” he asked quietly. 

Maitimo didn’t answer. 

Light fingers caressed his cheek, and he opened his eyes. Findekáno was watching him, such tenderness in his eyes that it took Maitimo’s breath away. “Even if they do hear us, what’s the worst that could happen?” 

Maitimo seized his fingers and held them tightly. “Hush, Finno.” 

Findekáno sighed, his forehead coming to rest against Maitimo’s. “It’s true, though,” he mumbled. “I don’t care if they do know. I don’t care who knows.”

“Hush,” said Maitimo again. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I do,” said Findekáno, but Maitimo silenced him with a kiss.

Findekáno wrapped his arms around Maitimo’s neck, one hand cupping the back of Maitimo’s head. Maitimo ran a hand down Findekáno’s back, pulling their hips closer together. Findekáno broke their kiss and dropped his head to Maitimo’s shoulder, breathing heavily. 

“Please,” he said finally, as Maitimo’s fingers rubbed circles on the small of his back. “Please don’t – if you’re just going to leave me hanging, _again_ …” His voice cracked. “I don’t want to make you do anything you don’t want to. But you come so close and make me think you want me, and then you pull _back_ , and I just – ” 

“I do want you,” said Maitimo. “Finno, I want you so badly it scares me.” 

“So take me,” whispered Findekáno, holding his gaze. “I’m _yours_ , Maitimo, you must know that.” 

Maitimo kissed him again at that, unable to stop himself. “You truly want this?” 

Findekáno managed to laugh, clinging to Maitimo like a drowning man. “You are such an idiot if you have to ask that.” 

“I _do_ have to ask.” 

“Fine, then yes, _yes_ , I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” 

Maitimo brushed the hair from Findekáno’s face. “Have you ever done this before?” 

Findekáno reddened a little. “No.” He shot a challenging glance at Maitimo. “Have you?” 

“Yes.” 

Findekáno’s fingers tightened on his shoulders at that, but there was something like eager curiosity in his voice as he asked, “With whom?” 

Maitimo shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t – it wasn’t something important.”

“And where was I?” Findekáno’s voice was half light and teasing, but there was a strain to the question. 

“Young,” said Maitimo, looking away again. “Too young. We weren’t – we weren’t close yet.” 

Findekáno fell quiet, and Maitimo traced his jawline to his ear, tugging lightly on the gold rings there. “Findekáno?” 

“It’s fine,” said Findekáno, meeting his eyes with a small smile. “It’s just – I get so ridiculously possessive thinking of you with someone else.” 

Maitimo pressed a kiss to his cheek. “It’s not ridiculous. Well, actually, it is ridiculous for you to think anyone else could ever remotely affect me like you do.” 

Findekáno laughed and pulled him close. “And then you say things like that and have me undone completely. _Bastard_.” 

Maitimo rolled Findekáno onto his back, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest and throat until his cousin was gasping beneath him, hands fisting in Maitimo’s hair. Maitimo slid to the side, legs straddling one of Findekáno’s thighs as he let his hand move steadily down Findekáno’s torso. Findekáno spread his legs instinctively, arching his hips up for Maitimo’s touch, and Maitimo answered his wordless plea, wrapping a hand around Findekáno’s arousal. 

Findekáno’s head dropped back on the pillows, breath leaving him as one hand fisted reflexively in the sheets. “…Oh. _Maitimo._ ” 

Maitimo let his hand move steadily as he propped himself on his elbow to watch his cousin’s face. Findekáno’s eyes were half closed, and his lips were parted. The candlelight caught the gold at his ears and in his hair, and Maitimo thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful. 

Findekáno must have been reading his mind, because his eyes opened all the way and he reached out a hand, touching a strand of the red hair falling loose over Maitimo’s shoulders. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. 

“You’re one to talk,” murmured Maitimo, bending to kiss him. 

“You don’t understand,” Findekáno mumbled against his lips, “You have no idea what you look like, do you?” 

“Rather like my mother, I’ve heard,” Maitimo replied, lips twitching a little. “But this is hardly the kind of talk to – ” 

“You’re perfection, you idiot,” said Findekáno, characteristically, then gasped and fell back, panting. “Elbereth, Maitimo, do that again.” 

Maitimo bit back a smile, trying not to feel smug as he quickened his strokes, his leg sliding up between Findekáno’s legs and letting his cousin grind down on him. He couldn’t help but rub himself against Findekáno’s thigh, his own arousal so intense he felt he might come just watching Findekáno. 

Though loath to take his eyes from his cousin’s face, he bent low to run his tongue along the edge of Findekáno’s ear, wresting such a loud cry from him that Maitimo clapped a hand to his mouth, laughing softly. 

“Careful,” he admonished, not wholly unpleased. Findekáno squeezed his eyes shut, panting against Maitimo’s hand, and Maitimo bit down lightly on his ear. When Findekáno came, his whole body spasming, Maitimo felt a rush of triumph. Bringing his hand to himself, he brought himself off in a few quick strokes. 

“So,” he said quietly, as Findekáno’s breathing slowed beside him, “ears, eh?” 

“Don’t sound so smug,” Findekáno mumbled, rolling over and throwing an arm across him as Maitimo laughed. They lay like that, tangled together in a moment of sheer contentment, Maitimo’s mind for once not whirring with possibilities.

 

A knock on the door had him starting up in panic, twitching a sheet over Findekáno’s naked body. 

“What is it?” he called, fumbling hastily for his clothes. Findekáno pointed a helpful toe towards his breeches, but his tunic was nowhere to be found. 

“It’s me.” Makalaurë’s low, musical voice came through the door. The latch rattled, but the door didn’t open. Maitimo silently blessed Curufinwë’s brief obsession with security mechanisms that had outfitted every member of the family with complex locks on their doors. 

“What do you want, Kano?” asked Maitimo, tugging his breeches on and giving up on his tunic. He kicked Findekáno’s clothes under the bed, then looked at Findekáno, sprawled naked and languorous over the sheets, entirely unfazed, and gave up. 

“I made tea,” said Makalaurë, slightly muffled. “Do you and Findekáno want a cup?” 

“Sure,” said Findekáno, from the bed. “I would take some tea.” 

“We’re fine,” said Maitimo, rolling his eyes. “Thank you for the offer.” 

“Also,” said Makalaurë, and Maitimo leaned against the door hopelessly, “if Findekáno’s in there, ask him about the lute he borrowed from me. I need it for a recital next week.” 

“Tell him I already returned it,” said Findekáno, rolling onto his side and propping his head in his hand. 

“And did you?” asked Maitimo in a low voice.

“No,” said Findekáno blithely. 

“No, he didn’t,” came Makalaurë’s voice through the door. “I can _hear_ you, Finno.” The latch rattled again. “Let me in.” 

Maitimo braced himself against the door. “No.” 

“I have Curvo’s skeleton key,” said Makalaurë, and Maitimo could hear him fumbling with something on the other side of the door. 

Maitimo’s head fell back against the door with a thump and he stared grimly at the ceiling. “What did I do to be cursed with brothers?” 

“Must have been something terrible,” said Findekáno lazily. He kicked the sheets from his body. Maitimo caught his breath again at his naked body, but raised his eyebrows warningly. “Calm down, I’m getting decent.” Findekáno snagged his breeches and tunic from under the bed and twitched the blankets into a semblance of neatness. “Come in, Makalaurë.” 

Yielding to the inevitable, Maitimo heaved himself up from the door and opened it, revealing Makalaurë, who was struggling to juggle a tea tray and a monstrous looking heavy iron key. He raised his eyes to appraise his brother, flicking curiously over Maitimo’s bare chest and then around the room and the disordered bed. Findekáno leaned casually against the desk, fully clothed. 

Makalaurë took all this in wordlessly, then set the tray on the bedside table. He looked like he was going to comment, but chose instead to say, “It’s that brew of Artanis’. Your favorite.” 

Maitimo inclined his head, bending down to accept the proffered cup. Makalaurë glanced up at him from beneath the fall of his dark curls. “Your tunic’s caught on that wall sconce, Maitimo.” 

Deciding that the Valar must have decided to withdraw their grace from him altogether for defiling his cousin, Maitimo strode to the sconce, fighting to keep his composure, and grabbed his tunic. The cousin in question snickered. 

 Makalaurë poured a second cup of tea demurely, and handed it to Findekáno. “About that lute,” he said pointedly, “you have _not_ returned it already, and the fact that you were going to lie raises grave doubts in my mind.”

Findekáno sighed and sank to the floor, folding his legs beneath him as he cupped the mug of tea in his hands. “It may have broken.” 

Makalaurë fixed him with the unwavering stare that each of Fëanor’s sons had inherited from their father. “ _May_ have broken.” 

“It broke,” amended Findekáno. “I broke it. I forgot I’d set it on the floor, and I left my practice sword behind last week and when I went back for it I rushed into my room without looking and trod on it.” 

“If you ever cleaned your room,” said Maitimo, reclining against the wall and sipping his tea, “this wouldn’t be a problem.” 

“I was _going_ to clean it, if you’ll remember, but you interrupted me and – ” 

“Finno,” said Maitimo in exasperation, but Makalaurë interrupted him. 

“Is it beyond repair?” 

“Probably not,” said Findekáno. “But it may take longer to fix than you have before the recital.” 

Makalaurë sighed. “I suppose I shall have to borrow one. Eärwen has a fine one. Perhaps I could convince her to lend it to me.” 

Findekáno snorted. “Good luck. She’s not feeling so kindly towards your family these days.” 

“Why?” Maitimo was frowning at Findekáno. 

Findekáno shrugged. “Any number of reasons. Most of them to do with your father.” 

Maitimo pulled his eyebrows together. “And here I thought it was just Nolofinwë who was acting so haughty of late.” 

Findekáno laughed, and his eyes were suddenly dark. “You think my father and his brother – sorry, his _full_ brother, in case you were confused – don’t share counsel? And that their families don’t see the same things they do, the way Fëanaro treats them?” 

“Their families?” Maitimo stared at Findekáno. “That would include you, Finno.” 

Findekáno shrugged again, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I never said I felt any differently than my father – or my uncle – towards Fëanaro.” 

Maitimo clenched his jaw. “Funny how you never mentioned that in all the time you spend with me. It hardly seems to keep you from frequenting our house. Or my company.” 

Findekáno met his gaze, equally unamused. “I know you are not your father.” 

“And yet you feel comfortable insulting him to my face?” 

Makalaurë held out a placating hand. “No need to bring up family tensions now,” he said, quiet but commanding, a performer’s gift for stilling a room with his voice. “Eärwen has ever been kind to us, and I’m sure if I approach her and explain my situation she will be generous. And you two – ” his eyes swept over both of them, Findekáno scowling by the desk, Maitimo rigid and furious by the door. “Don’t let our fathers’ quarrel turn this into your first lovers’ spat.” 

“ ‘First’,” snorted Findekáno, but Maitimo held up a hand, staring at his brother. 

“You know, then?” 

“Of course,” said Makalaurë, busying himself with the honey jar. “I rather suspected for the past several months – I thought I saw something, maybe, after a couple council meetings – ” 

“I told you,” muttered Maitimo, but Makalaurë went on. 

“Then tonight, of course, it was confirmed.” 

Maitimo glanced down at his rumpled clothes; the disordered bed. “I guess it is rather obvious when you see it,” he said, resignedly.

“You also weren’t exactly quiet,” said Makalaurë. 

Maitimo froze, horrified.

“That’s why I was playing,” said Makalaurë. “I thought it might help keep Amil and Atar from hearing. It’s good they’re two floors down.”

Maitimo dropped his head into his hands, feeling his skin burning, and he cursed his fair complexion. “I’m sorry,” he said, muffled.

“I won’t tell,” said Makalaurë, putting the lid back on the honeypot.

Maitimo couldn’t bring himself to raise his head from his hands until he felt a light touch at his shoulder. 

“Don’t look so much like it’s the end of the world, Maitimo,” said Findekáno, quietly. 

Makalaurë stood, balancing the tea tray. “It really isn’t. You should be more cautious, though.” He slipped out the door, granting his brother a slight smile. “Perhaps no pinning Findekáno to walls after council meetings.” 

“Ai, Ilúvatar,” said Maitimo, to his hands, as Makalaurë slid the door shut behind him. 

Findekáno dropped to his knees before him, taking his hand between his own. “Don’t look so devastated, beloved.” 

Maitimo felt a rush of emotion at the endearment, but he resisted the urge to sink down beside his cousin. “It’s not just Makalaurë. It’s – you saw us, just now. How fast we turned on each other. Our fathers – if it ever comes down to – ”

“Stop,” said Findekáno, sharply. “You’re going to say something about what if, one day, you have to choose between me and your father. Some dramatic nonsense like that. It’s not going to come to that, Maitimo.”

“How do you know?”

“Fine, I don’t. But look, Maitimo,” and Findekáno gazed up at him, a smile breaking over his face, “I know there’s nothing that will stop me loving you.” 

And at that, Maitimo yielded and dropped to his knees beside Findekáno, pulling him close and burying his face in his hair. “You may not always be well served by loving me,” he whispered, squeezing his eyes shut and refusing to acknowledge the sting behind his eyelids.

“Perhaps not,” said Findekáno, a fierce kind of joy in his voice, as he wrapped his arms around Maitimo in turn. “But love you I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> 0\. Title from Whitman’s Calamus. Again.


End file.
